


On a new shore line

by sephirothflame



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-12
Updated: 2011-06-12
Packaged: 2017-10-20 08:27:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/210768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sephirothflame/pseuds/sephirothflame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nate never joined the Marine Corps. He works two jobs, one as a hotass waiter at a local bar where he meets Brad, and one as a popular fiction writer. Brad is a Marine though, and Marines get deployed, and Brad has to go, even if it means leaving Nate behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On a new shore line

eight.

Brad gets the news on a Tuesday. He’s got another four months in Afghanistan due to some idiots fucking up and trying to cover their asses. Brad can’t say that he’s not surprised, but that doesn’t mean he’s okay with the news.

He puts off calling home for another four days, lets the guys with wives and kids share the bad news first. It’s not that he doesn’t think Nate doesn’t deserve to know or that Brad doesn’t care about not going home, he just really doesn’t want to have to tell him.

Nate is Nate. Brad never knows what to expect from him.

” _I doubt this phone call is about wishing me a happy birthday_ ,” Nate says as the silence stretches on after their awkward _hello_ s.

”It’s not your birthday,” Brad replies. At least, he’s pretty sure it’s not.

” _No_ ,” Nate agrees. “ _My birthday was the 22nd_.”

Today is the 18th. Brad has missed Nate’s birthday by almost a month and Nate didn’t say a damn thing. “I’m sorry.” He really is. “I should have – “

” _It’s fine, Brad. I know you have other things to worry about_.”

Brad rests his forehead against the smooth plaster of the wall of the building they’re camped out in, closes his eyes and squeezes the phone tightly. “Nate.”

” _I’m not a kid, Brad. I don’t need people to remind me that I’m old. Besides_ \- “ Nate pauses, yawning widely and Brad wonders if he woke Nate up. “ _Your mom made me a cake. We went to lunch together._ ”

”That woman,” Brad starts, but he doesn’t know if he’s frustrated or amused. “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have introduced you two if I knew she was going to be bothering you all the time.”

” _Your mom making me a cake and taking me to lunch isn’t ‘bothering’ me_ ,” Nate counters. “ _It’s when she laments over the fact I’m all alone, waiting patiently for you to come home like a good Marine wife that makes me uncomfortable._ ”

”Maybe I’ll get you a dog when I get home,” Brad says, because it seems like his safest bet. He’s not going to touch the Marine wife comment unless he absolutely has to, and even then, he won’t like it.

A dog would be good for Nate though, Brad thinks. Nate would have to stop spending all his time on his laptop and go out into the sunlight once in a while. He’d have someone to keep him warm when Brad is deployed.

Nate snorts into the other end of the line. ” _I think your mother would prefer children._ ”

”This isn’t about what she wants.”

” _I just want you_ ,” Nate says, and it’s the painful honestly Brad’s come to expect from him, but even after two years he’s still not entirely sure how to deal with it.

”My orders were extended,” Brad says before Nate can continue. “I’ve got another four months. I won’t be home until the middle of February.”

Nate is silent on the other end of the line, and Brad prays to a God that he doesn’t believe in that Nate didn’t hang up. “ _You couldn’t have started with that?_ ” Nate asks after a minute, his tone flat.

”I didn’t want you to hang up,” Brad admits softly, running a hand over his face. _I haven’t heard your voice in weeks, I’ve missed you, I don’t want you to not wait for me anymore_ all rush through his head, but he doesn’t say any of them.

Nate already knows how Brad feels about him.

” _You’re an idiot_ ,” Nate decides after another long moment of silence. “ _I love you, but you’re an idiot._ ”

Brad lets out a relieved sigh. He can feel himself smiling, but he doesn’t care. “I could say the same thing,” Brad hums out thoughtfully, because it’s the closest he will let himself get to saying the words back. At least, the closest while he’s in Theatre.

Nate laughs though, and for a moment, everything is okay.

* * *

one.

”Not to sound gay or anything,” Ray starts slowly, waiting until their waiter is out of earshot before he shoots Brad a surreptitious look. “But I would totally let him wrap his lips around my cock. I wouldn’t even make him swallow.”

Brad glances in the direction their waiter wandered off to, admiring the pull of his jeans over his ass and secretly agrees. Bright green eyes, hair just long enough to pull and pink lips Brad bets the waiter bites at when he’s thinking. Brad’s been stateside for two weeks post OIF, he needs to get laid. He doesn’t care where he gets his rocks off as long as he does. Tonight.

To Ray though, Brad rolls his eyes and says, “You’re such a fucking faggot, Ray.”

”Fuck you,” Ray says, grinning, and he kicks at Brad under the table. “I bet all the girls and boys trip over themselves just to get a taste of your Iceman dick. Some of us can’t afford to be choosy.”

Brad doesn’t understand how picking the tallest, most attractive of the three waiters bouncing around the bar is Ray being not choosy but he bites his tongue. “I’m not _asking_ ,” Brad says slowly, and he can already feel himself regretting this, “but were you even paying attention to his name?”

Ray’s smile is lopsided, and he takes a long drag of his beer. He misses his mouth at first and spills some of the amber liquid down his front before he smacks his glass back down on the table. “Not that I’m _telling_ ,” Ray says, stressing the word just to mock Brad, Brad is sure, “but Waiter McHotass’ name was Nate.”

_Nate_ , Brad thinks, sipping at his beer and shooting a look over to where Nate is bending over the bar to talk to the bartender, tapping one of his boots against the floor in a jittery rhythm. If he ignores the fact he apparently has the same taste in boys as Ray for a moment, Brad lets himself wonder what it would take to get Nate on his knees and if it’d be worth it.

Brad usually doesn’t go for guys and definitely not when they’re this close to the Base, but there’s a knowing quirk to Nate’s lips when he glances in Brad’s direction again and Brad thinks Nate is definitely a risk worth taking.

* * *

six.

It’s not that Brad regrets introducing Nate to his parents, or that he hates that Nate and his mother are getting along so well. Really, this was going a lot better than Brad could have asked for. It’s just, now that dinner is over – and his sisters have decided Nate is in fact, good enough, and Brad is going to have Words with them when he gets back – he’d really like to go home.

With Nate.

So they can have sex.

He’s already said his goodbyes to his sisters and father in the house, letting his niece press a wet kiss to his cheek and snuggle against his chest. His mother didn’t need to walk them to the door, it’s been in the same place it has Brad’s entire life. He knows she doesn’t want to let go just yet, but Brad wishes she would.

Because if Brad is going to be in the desert for the next eight months, he would really like to take advantage of the fact he has a completely willing and sexy boyfriend that he could be fucking right now.

Not that Brad can tell his mother this exactly. Well, he could, but she’d probably accuse him of not appreciating Nate properly or something. As soon as she got over the fact that yes, Brad did mean _Nate_ as in _Nathaniel_ and not _Nat_ as in _Natalie_ , she pretty much decided Nate was the most perfect being in the universe.

She’s even reading his book for her book club, and if Nate hadn’t turned such a pretty color of pink as she fawned and fussed over him, Brad would have had to kill her. Brad doesn’t think he’s ever wanted to hurt his mother before. Nate is clearly a negative influence in Brad’s life.

”It was lovely meeting you,” Nate says, snapping Brad out of his reverie. Nate’s smile is almost as bright as his eyes and his cheeks flushed from the wine they’d poured into him. He loops his elbow through Brad’s in a surprising act of PDA and even though it makes Brad squirm uncomfortably, he doesn’t have it in him to pull away.

Not when Nate is looking up at Brad so openly and adoringly. Brad has to remind himself that he doesn’t do PDA and that even though his parents are okay with Nate being a guy, he doesn’t think he’s ready to kiss Nate in front of them. Though, with the clock ticking by on the time they’ve got left together before Brad ships out in the morning, Brad would really rather do nothing other than kiss Nate.

”You too, sweetie,” Brad’s mother says, patting Nate’s cheek affectionately before she pulls Brad into a hug. Nate pulls away from Brad so he can hug her proper, and Brad’s mother pats Brad’s cheek and straightens his shirt once she pulls away. “You come home safe, now,” she says, her voice hardening. “Nate’s a good boy and shouldn’t be left alone.”

”I’ll try,” Brad says, because he can’t promise his mother any more than that. She knows that though, and it shows in her tired smile. “We should – “

”Yes, of course,” his mother says, cheering up instantly. She looks at Nate and shoots him a sly smile. “You two should go home. I trust you’ll take care of my Bradley tonight.”

Nate startles, his cheeks reddening instantly and its sheer willpower alone that keeps Brad from hitting something. “Mom!”

”I most definitely will,” Nate says through his blush, his lips twitching up into a smirk.

Brad’s mother shoots Nate a fond smile. “I knew I liked you for a reason, Nathaniel.”

Nate beams, clearly pleased with himself. He looks up at Brad, fingers itching for Brad’s elbow, and this time when the desire to kiss Nate rushes through his veins, Brad lets himself do just that.

* * *

nine.

From: Nate C Fick [ficknc@gmail.com]  
To: Brad Colbert [colbertb@gmail.com]  
Date: Sat, Nov 12, 2005 at 2:03 PM  
Subject: Just so you know

Brad -

If I’m no longer alive when I get home, I want you to avenge my death. My editor, Martha, is evil. She decided that since you weren’t coming home when you were supposed to, it’s apparently okay to push my deadline forward by a month. This means I have to actually write instead of spending all day playing Minesweeper.

\- Nate

From: Brad Colbert [colbertb@gmail.com]  
To: Nate C Fick [ficknc@gmail.com]  
Date: Sun, Nov 13, 2005 at 8:28 PM  
Subject: Re: Just so you know

It sounds like you have a personal problem. If you quit your job at the bar, you’d have more time to play Minesweeper _and_ write.

\- B

From: Nate C Fick [ficknc@gmail.com]  
To: Brad Colbert [colbertb@gmail.com]  
Date: Sun, Nov 13, 2005 at 10:53 PM  
Subject: Re: Re: Just so you know

Brad -

Fuck you. I’m not going to quit my job at the bar. We’ve had this argument before. You should be more sympathetic.

\- Nate

From: Brad Colbert [colbertb@gmail.com]  
To: Nate C Fick [ficknc@gmail.com]  
Date: Sat, Nov 19, 2005 at 6:32 PM  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Just so you know

No.

\- B

From: Brad Colbert [colbertb@gmail.com]  
To: Nate C Fick [ficknc@gmail.com]  
Date: Fri, Dec 23, 2005 at 6:06 PM  
Subject: [No Subject]

Merry Christmas, Nate.

\- B

From: Nate C Fick [ficknc@gmail.com]  
To: Brad Colbert [colbertb@gmail.com]  
Date: Fri, Dec 23, 2005 at 6:18 PM  
Subject: Re: [No Subject]

Happy Chanukah, Brad. :)

I sent you a box. USPS said it should get there in three to four weeks, assuming you don’t get shipped out again. Aren’t you tired of Skittles yet? I swear that’s all I buy you these days. Also, I went shopping with your sister Annie and my sister Stephanie today. I may have made a horrible mistake in introducing the two.

\- Nate

From: Brad Colbert [colbertb@gmail.com]  
To: Nate C Fick [ficknc@gmail.com]  
Date: Fri, Dec 23, 2005 at 6:32 PM  
Subject: Re: Re: [No Subject]

We’ve talked about the emoticons before, Nate. I don’t want to have to hurt you, but you know how I feel on this subject.

I will never get tired of Skittles. I appreciate the box. That wasn’t my fault and I got the last one eventually. You’re an idiot. I thought we already agreed that the less contact that went on between our families the better. You know how my mother and sisters get, did you really need to fuel the fire by introducing the two groups? Shame. Shame on you.

\- B

From: Nate C Fick [ficknc@gmail.com]  
To: Brad Colbert [colbertb@gmail.com]  
Date: Fri, Dec 23, 2005 at 7:01 PM  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: [No Subject]

Holy shit, you were actually online?

From: Nate C Fick [ficknc@gmail.com]  
To: Brad Colbert [colbertb@gmail.com]  
Date: Fri, Dec 23, 2005 at 7:09 PM  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: [No Subject]

And fuck you, your sisters are older than you. You’ve never had to suffer through the same guilt tripping tactics I have. Besides, I like Annie. She bought me a pretzel.

From: Brad Colbert [colbertb@gmail.com]  
To: Nate C Fick [ficknc@gmail.com]  
Date: Sat, Jan 14, 2006 at 7:12 PM  
Subject: Book

How’s your book coming along?

\- B

From: Nate C Fick [ficknc@gmail.com]  
To: Brad Colbert [colbertb@gmail.com]  
Date: Sat, Jan 14, 2006 at 7:45 PM  
Subject: Re: Book

I don’t want to talk about it.

\- Nate

* * *

four.

Nate, Brad learns, works two jobs.

His first job is as a totally hotass waiter at a bar. He’s personable and cute enough that just a flash of his smile is enough to get handsome tips shoved at him, and he’s perfectly capable of taking care of himself whenever someone grabs his ass.

His second job is actually the one that nets him more income and he spends more time actually doing. It takes Brad three months of meeting Nate for coffee, devouring take out together and fucking all over Brad’s house before Brad learns that Nate, his Nate, the green eyed wonder with a tight ass and cocksucking lips, is the same Nate as _Nathaniel Christopher Fick_ , international best seller.

”That’s so pretentious,” Brad informs Nate the first time he sees the cover of Nate’s book, waving the thing in Nate’s face. “You even have a mug shot on the back. Jesus Christ, you look like a twelve year old girl’s wet dream. Such a Goddamn twink.”

”Twelve year old girls don’t have wet dreams,” Nate snaps, snatching the hardback book and tossing it back onto his desk. “You wanted to come to my apartment. I wouldn’t have invited you if I knew you were just going to make fun of me the entire time.”

”You didn’t even let me read the summary,” Brad says. When he tries to reach for the book, Nate smacks his hand away. Brad just stares at Nate. “What was that for?”

”Brad, you make fun of my taste in music, clothing, food, furniture, car, hobbies and my hair,” Nate says seriously. “What makes you think I would let you read that book? I’m not going to put out ever again if you’re just going to keep making fun of me.”

”You do realize I’ll just Google it when I get home, right?” Brad asks.

”When you get home,” Nate agrees. “Right now, though? You’re going to follow me to my bedroom and fuck me so hard that I hate having ever met you while I’m at work tonight. Think you can do that, Marine?”

Yes, Brad can definitely do that. He returns the smirk Nate flashes him and lets himself be dragged through Nate’s cramped apartment back towards the bedroom. He’s still less than amused that it’s taken so long for him to find out about Nate’s secret other life, but Nate more than makes up for it when he slides to his knees so willingly between Brad’s thighs.

* * *

seven.

Whoever says the first month is the hardest is an idiot. Brad is kept so busy for the first month, learning patrols and testing the waters with the new Lieutenant, exhausting himself half to death in the desert heat and yelling at the fuck up who replaced Ray as his RTO and Driver that Brad barely has time to miss home. It’s not until they settle into a real honest to God base of operations, one with walls and windows and mostly private bathrooms does the loneliness start to slip in.

Brad doesn’t have his own room, but there are enough of these tiny, converted offices that he only shares the space with his team. Between the five of them, they’re only just on the wrong side of being unbearable and Brad spends as much time away from the confining walls as he can.

The sounds of four other men griping and bitching and snoring and occasionally jerking off fill the void enough that Brad doesn’t need to think about his own bed back in California, of Nate curled up in bed beside him. Nate doesn’t cuddle, but he doesn’t mind the odd occasion when Brad _needs_ to drag Nate back against his chest and just hold him in place, make sure he’s still there. Nate never asks and Brad never tells, and normally, Nate sleeping just within arms’ reach is enough.

Really, it’s the first letter from home that reminds Brad of what he’s missing right now. He’s been so wrapped up in this, in doing his job and being a Marine that he almost forgot he had someone waiting for him at home. After what happened with his fiancé, he didn’t want to get his hopes up, didn’t want to feel the heartbreak of the person he loves most leaving him for his best friend _again_.

Though, the thought of Nate and Ray hooking up is more amusing than tragic, and Brad isn’t even entirely sure why. It’s not like Ray’s ever denied he wants to do explicit things to Nate and Nate has always taken Ray’s words with a grain of salt.

Once Brad sees Nate’s neat scrawl though, the letters small and impossibly perfect in their legibility, something gives way inside of him. The yearning to see Nate, to smell the stupid strawberry scented shampoo he loves so much and trace the soft and salty lines of Nate’s skin again with his tongue is almost unbearable.

Brad has the most beautiful being in the universe keeping his bed warm in California, and he’s in the middle of the fucking desert for the next six months. He’s terrified that Nate won’t be there when he gets back, but he’s even more terrified of what happens next if Nate is. Brad’s already asked Nate to move in with him, he doesn’t know where they could possibly go from there. Nate deserves so much better than Brad, but he’s everything Brad has ever wanted but could never ask for.

It takes Brad almost two weeks to work up the resolve to message Nate back, and he cheats at that by sending Nate an e-mail. He doesn’t know what to say, because there isn’t much he’s allowed to, so he settles for saying he got Nate’s letter and if Nate felt like being a Saint, Brad could really use an industrial sized bag of Skittles.

When Nate actually does send Brad a decent sized box half filled with Skittles – amongst other things, including but not limited to Kool Aid singles packets and Playdoh, because Nate is both a Saint and a freak – Brad knows that no matter how things turn out here, as long as Nate is still waiting for him when he gets back, Brad has no intention of ever letting him go.

* * *

two.

Nate’s barely in the front door before Brad is shoving him against it, pressing against him and covering Nate’s mouth with his own. Nate responds instantly, parting his lips with a groan and his fingers grasp and tug at Brad’s shirt urgently. His tongue is hot and slick, curling around Brad’s easily before stroking against it with a feather light slide.

Brad has no regrets about bringing Nate home from the bar. Absolutely none at all.

They kiss until they’re breathless – or, Nate is, since Brad can hold his breath for so much longer – and Nate is rubbing himself against Brad’s thigh like a cheap whore. His jeans are slipping dangerously low on his hips, straining across his cock. Nate’s shirt is riding up to reveal a tight, hot stomach for Brad to touch. Brad knows what he wants.

Brad slides to his knees, pressing his lips against Nate’s stomach in a dry kiss. He can feel the muscles twitch and spasm in anticipation, a small sound escaping Nate, and Brad smiles against the skin. He nips lightly, scraping his teeth, giving Nate something to be distracted by while he fumbles to undo Nate’s belt and jeans, tugging them down his thighs roughly.

Nate’s cock is hard, slick with precum, and Nate makes a needy, pathetic sound when Brad kisses the veiny underside of it. He takes his time mouthing his way to the top, sucking and licking at the shaft, laughing breathlessly as Nate jerks beneath him, his fingers scrambling to find purchase in Brad’s too short hair. Nate’s nails bite into Brad’s skin and he whines so beautifully, Brad cuts the teasing short in favor of sucking the head into his mouth without warning.

Brad’s ready for the snapping of Nate’s hips, pinning him back to the door with his hands easily. Nate groans, another pretty sound, but he stops trying to arch forward. Brad rewards the behavior by swallowing more of Nate’s cock, his lips stretching easily to accommodate the thick shaft of it. He hollows his cheeks when he sucks, pulling off of Nate slowly, and Brad loosens his grip just enough to let Nate thrust back into his mouth without choking on him.

”Fuck, I knew you were going to be my best tip tonight,” Nate groans, his hips struggling against Brad’s grasp as Brad’s head continues to bob on his cock. It’s loud and too wet, the taste of Nate obscene on his tongue, and Nate doesn’t stop trying to arch forward for more. His fingers are bruising tight against Brad’s shoulders, his nails cutting in, and Nate continues to moan and swear and babble. “Goddamn Marines.”

There’s a part of Brad that wants to stop and ask Nate if he’s complaining, but he’s not feeling that spiteful. It’s been too long since he’s done this, since he’s honestly enjoyed the feeling of someone’s cock gliding across his tongue and down his throat. Brad’s rock hard from just doing this and he has to press the heel of one of his palms against the front of his own jeans to relieve some of the maddening pressure. It gives Nate enough room to rock forward into Brad’s throat, and Brad moans encouragingly, letting go of Nate’s hips altogether.

Nate whines, impatient and high, his lip pinched beneath his teeth to keep back the rush of words. He digs his nails into Brad’s shoulder as tight as he can, cupping the back of his head with one hand while he thrusts forward into Brad’s mouth. Nate’s sounds and thrusts are needy and desperate, nearly falling apart when Brad starts to hum as Nate buries himself in the back of Brad’s throat.

It doesn’t take much for Nate to come with a strangled cry, Brad sputtering and trying not to choke as he pulls off of Nate. Brad wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, closing his eyes and pressing his cheek against Nate’s thigh, sucking in a sharp breath.

”You learn that in the Marine Corps?” Nate asks, letting his head thump back against the door. His fingers are gentle against Brad’s scalp, massaging lightly as he struggles to catch his breath again. Nate’s muscles tremble under the touch of Brad’s fingertips, and Brad smiles.

”Military school,” Brad replies and he smiles when Nate lets out a strained laugh. Pressing a kiss to Nate’s stomach, Brad smiles against the skin and thinks that _yes_ , he definitely doesn’t have any regrets about bringing Nate home tonight.

* * *

eleven.

Nate is still sleeping when Brad wakes up, the blinds streaming in sunlight and warming up his skin. There are bruises forming on his hips from Brad holding him down last night, and Brad lets his fingers skim over them lightly. Nate shifts away from the touch, rolling onto his back and stretching across the bed.

Brad watches Nate go, waiting for him to settle back down before he scoots closer, resting a palm on Nate’s stomach. This time, Nate doesn’t squirm away from the touch, and Brad is glad. He kisses Nate’s shoulder, pressing his cheek against it and sighing deeply.

He’s glad to be home. He’s glad to be _home_ , with Nate warm and beautiful in their bed. Nate, who waited for him, even though he didn’t have to and probably would have been happier and less stressed if he didn’t.

Nate, who Brad loves more than he’ll ever know how to admit.

”I can hear you thinking,” Nate murmurs, tipping his head to the side to look at Brad. There’s a crooked smile on his face, and his eyes are a brilliant green, even half-lidded. His skin is warm and flushed from sleep and the sun, and Brad doesn’t hesitate in leaning closer to press a dry kiss to his lips.

Nate rolls over onto his side, slinging one leg over Brad’s and draws him in closer. He parts his lips easily at the first brush of Brad’s tongue, and after a year of being apart, morning breath is the absolute last concern on either of their minds. His hand is just starting to tease its way down Brad’s stomach to his dick when the most obnoxious sound Brad has ever heard – short of Ray Person himself – fills the room.

”What the fuck?” Brad asks, breaking the kiss and blinking in confusion. The music is loud and obnoxious, the words muffled by something and drowned out by the loud, incessant beat.

”It’s just my phone,” Nate says, tugging Brad back in for a kiss. His tongue is slick, swiping teasing strokes against Brad’s, but he stops when Brad isn’t reacting. “Brad.”

”I think I’m bleeding out of my ears,” Brad growls. He rolls Nate over onto his back, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of Nate’s mouth before he crawls to the edge of the bed and searches for Nate’s jeans. “This is worse than Ray singing Avril at the top of his longs. What the fuck kind of ringtone is that?”

”It’s my editor,” Nate says, propping himself up on his elbows and shooting Brad a disapproving look. “She set it up so I can’t ignore her. I don’t know how to change it. Brad, what the fuck are you doing? _Brad_.”

Brad finds Nate’s phone, turning it over in his hands until he can see the screen. _Martha G_ blinks up at him in bright blue letters. The music is even more obnoxious when Nate’s jeans can’t muffle the sound, and Brad flips the phone open to shut it up.

” _Nathaniel – “_ the woman on the other end of the line starts.

” _Nathaniel_ can’t come to the phone right now,” Brad says curtly. “He’s about to get fucked into the mattress and will be incommunicado until this afternoon at the earliest. If you try calling back and I’m forced to listen to that piss poor excuse for music of a ringtone again, I will smash his phone and kidnap him to Alaska with me.”

Brad hangs up.

”Brad!” Nate says, aghast. He melts back into the mattress when Brad climbs on top of him, but pushes his palms against Brad’s chest when Brad tries to kiss him, stopping him. “You know there’s going to be hell to pay for that, right?” When Brad just quirks an eyebrow, Nate sighs and slides his hands to Brad’s hips. He tips his face away when Brad tries to kiss him. Eventually, his curiosity wins out, and he asks, “why Alaska?”

”My family has a place,” Brad says. He kisses the corner of Nate’s lips and smiles. “A cabin. No one could find us.”

”Sounds good to me,” Nate replies. He reaches for Brad’s ass, dragging him in closer. Their teeth clack together when they kiss, and Nate laughs. “Aren’t you supposed to be fucking me into the mattress?”

Nate’s editor doesn’t call back.

* * *

five.

”No laptop in bed,” Brad says, leaning against the doorjamb and shooting Nate a mildly disappointed look.

Nate blinks slowly, glancing up from his laptop screen. He flashes Brad an apologetic smile. He’s got his glasses on, and it might be the one reason Brad hasn’t snapped. Nate’s not supposed to work in bed, but the black frames do things to Brad. It kind of sucks Nate only ever wears them when he’s writing.

“Sorry. I thought you were still out getting stuff from your pre-deployment check list,” Nate says. He shuts the lid of his laptop when Brad crosses the room, pushing it to the side when Brad sits on the bed in front of him and leans forward. Closing his eyes, Nate smiles sadly into the soft kiss. “Do you really have to go?”

Brad rests his forehead against Nate’s, their noses bumping together. He can feel Nate’s smile, even if he can’t see it, and for a moment Brad is content to just breathe into Nate’s space. Eventually, he sighs, and presses his lips to Nate’s in another soft kiss. “Don’t do that, Nate.”

”I’m sorry,” Nate says, pulling away from Brad and shaking his head. “I know. It’s not fair to ask you that. I’m sorry.” He runs his fingers through his hair, sighing heavily. “I should get back to my apartment. I can’t remember the last time I stopped by.” When he reaches to tug off his glasses, Brad stops him.

”I want you to stay.” Brad tugs Nate’s hands down away from his face, pinning them to his lap. He stares down at their fingers, stroking his thumb over Nate’s knuckles slowly. “Here. While I’m gone.”

Nate’s quiet for a long moment, and when Brad finally glances up, Nate’s staring at him with an unreadable expression. “Are you asking me to move in with you?” Nate asks softly, his cheeks flushing lightly.

Letting go of Nate’s wrists, Brad touches Nate’s face, his fingertips skimming over lightly freckled skin until he can cup Nate’s jaw. He traces his thumb over Nate’s lower lip, smiling when Nate’s flush deepens. “Yes. You basically live here already, mooch. You’re worse than Ray.”

Nate laughs, startled and pleased. He straightens his glasses before tugging Brad closer by his shirt, smiling again. Brad’s hand drops from Nate’s face, and Nate kisses Brad’s jaw lightly. “Do I have to wait for you to be deployed before I move in?”

”Do you want to?” Brad asks, frowning.

”No,” Nate replies, nuzzling against Brad’s cheek lightly. “But my rent is paid until the end of the month.” His breath is hot against Brad’s ear, moist, and he flicks his tongue out to touch the lobe lightly.

Brad closes his eyes and sighs softly. “I want you to stay,” he says, slipping his fingers under the hem of Nate’s shirt until he can feel hot skin. “Please.”

He thinks _I want you to wait for me_ , but he can’t bring himself to say the words. Brad doesn’t think he can handle Nate’s reaction if it’s ‘ _no_ ’, or the heartbreak if Nate doesn’t.

Judging from the smile on Nate’s face, he might know what Brad was really asking, anyway. He presses a quick kiss to Brad’s lips, and this time when he moves to take his glasses off, Brad lets him. “Yes,” Nate says, and Brad thinks he might actually mean _always_.

* * *

ten.

Nate is exactly where Brad left him after twelve months of deployment, curled on his side with his face pressed into Brad’s pillow. He’s lost weight, but so has Brad, and the ratty sweats he likes to sleep in are hanging dangerously low on his hips.

Brad moves across the room quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed. He touches Nate’s hip gently, to make sure that he isn’t hallucinating or dreaming, and there’s a rush of emotions that he can’t even begin to identify because Nate is still _here_. Nate is still here in their bed, wearing one of Brad’s shirts and snoring softly.

Brad leaves Nate’s side only long enough to strip out of his uniform, letting it stay where it falls to the floor for once, before he stretches out on the bed at Nate’s side. He reaches for Nate’s hip again, his thumb stroking along the curve of the bone lightly, content to just watch Nate’s chest rise and fall with every quiet breath. Brad’s tired, exhausted, but the last time Brad saw Nate, watched Nate sleep, he thought he was going to be the last time. Brad can spare a few minutes to marvel over the fact that Nate is still his.

Nate stirs, rolling onto his stomach and closer to Brad. He nestles into the pillow, sighing heavily. When Brad’s hand rests on the small of his back, Nate stops squirming to get closer to the bed. A heartbeat later, his green eyes are blinking open sluggishly. He stares blankly, bringing a hand up to wipe at his eyes tiredly like a small child. “Brad?” he asks, his voice rough and confused.

”Hey,” Brad replies. He runs his hand along Nate’s spine, petting him soothingly, and Nate’s eyes flicker shut at the contact. “Go back to sleep. I’ll still be here in the morning.”

”No,” Nate whines, shaking his head. He pushes Brad’s hand away from him and rolls onto his back, stretching languorously. His shirt rides up, showing off the flat plane of his stomach, and it’s very distracting. Brad wants to put his mouth there. Nate pushes himself up into a sitting position, turning until he can nudge at Brad’s hip and tip him onto his back. He barely waits for Brad to settle before he’s straddling his lap and ducking down for a kiss.

It’s a slow, lazy kiss, Nate’s body heavy and warm from sleep. His mouth is soft against Brad’s chapped lips, and he wets them with his tongue before Brad parts them and strokes Nate’s tongue with his own. Nate takes his time in exploring Brad’s mouth, tracing the ridge of his teeth and caressing lightly against Brad’s upper palate. Every brush of their tongues together is slow and deliberate, Nate just teasing until they’re both breathless.

Nate fumbles for Brad’s hands, dragging them to his own hips and holding them there until Brad takes the hint and holds on. His own hands skim across Brad’s chest, tracing the curve of ribs and thumbing over old scars and Brad’s nipples. Nate’s nails scrape lightly, and Brad tightens his grip on Nate’s hips. Laughing into the kiss, Nate nips at Brad’s tongue, waiting for him to press it past Nate’s lips and starts to suck when it does.

”Please,” Nate breathes, his voice soft and trembling, breaking the kiss and tucking his face into the curve of Brad’s neck. “Brad.” His smile is soft against Brad’s skin, his breath stuttering, and Brad is glad for the dark because he can pretend his heart isn’t breaking and that Nate isn’t going to cry. “I need you to – please - fuck me.”

Brad sucks in a sharp breath, digging his nails into Nate’s slim hips. He takes one moment to catch his breath, to try to calm the rush of everything – exhaustion, relief, _love_ \- before he rolls Nate onto his back and gives him everything he asks for.

* * *

three.

The doorbell rings at a little after four in the morning. It’s a Saturday and Brad’s been busy trying to mod his sister’s new desktop – she’d had a Mac, but Brad saw fit to put an end to _that_. He hasn’t gone to bed yet, hadn’t even planned on it for another hour or so, but that doesn’t mean he appreciates the visit.

Really, Brad isn’t surprised in the least that Ray is the one who keeps pressing the button incessantly. It’s not even the fact he’s drunk that throws Brad off. It’s the part where Ray is half hanging off of Nate that is throwing Brad for a loop.

”I’m sorry,” Nate says, smiling tightly. “He refused to leave the bar in a cab. He said he lived here.”

”He doesn’t,” Brad replies curtly. If it was just Ray, he’d entertain the idea of shutting the door in his face. Brad doesn’t though, and he sighs, stepping aside to let Nate and Ray in. “Go sleep on the couch, Ray.”

”Braaad,” Ray stage whispers, making grabby hands that Brad easily sidesteps. “I found Waiter McHotass again. You can stop being a giant circumcised dick now.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, clinging to Nate’s side tightly. “You _owe_ me.”

”Waiter McHotass?” Nate asks, incredulous.

”Couch, Ray,” Brad says, gritting his teeth. He ignores Ray’s whines as he stumbles through the foyer to the living room, bumping into things and complaining as he goes. Brad waits until he hears Ray collapsing onto the sofa before he looks at Nate. “I’m sorry. Ray – “

”Is fine,” Nate says, waving a hand dismissively. “I work in a bar, I’m used to it. I realized he was delusional after he started ranting about how you’ve written odes to my ass and haven’t slept at all in the past week because we have a great, tragic romance. And that he was lying about five minutes into giving me directions.”

Brad just stares.

”Yes?” Nate asks, quirking an eyebrow.

”I have not written odes to your ass,” he says, as the silence stretches on. When Nate just stares, Brad adds, “It is a nice ass though.”

”Yeah, well, it, and the rest of me is exhausted,” Nate says. He rubs at his face tiredly, before glancing at his watch. “Jesus. I’m really sorry for bothering you this late.”

”It’s fine. I was awake anyway,” Brad says. He hesitates, glancing at the front door, then at Nate again. “Do you want some coffee - ?”

”No thanks,” Nate says, smiling thinly.

”Oh.”

Nate frowns, then shakes his head. “I mean. I’m not saying ‘ _no_ ’. Just tonight, I’d really like to go home and shower and sleep until three in the afternoon.”

”It’s fine,” Brad says, shrugging a shoulder.

”Brad,” Nate says sternly, giving him an unamused look. He waits until Brad meets his gaze before he continues. “If you just want to fuck, fine, stop by The Waterfront tomorrow night. I work until closing, so I’ll be there until four. But – “ here, Nate pauses, and looks sheepish for a moment “ – if you want _coffee_ , here’s my number.”

Nate takes Brad’s hand without asking, pulling a purple Sharpie out of his jeans and writes his number in the soft skin of Brad’s palm. He bows his head and blows lightly to help the ink set, before flashing a devious smile up at Brad. When he lets go of Brad’s hand, it feels cold.

”What if I want both?” Brad asks.

The devious smile widens. “We’ll see.”

* * *

twelve.

”Why are there Cheerios all over the floor?” Nate asks, following the trail into the kitchen where he nearly trips over Brad.

Brad blinks up at him from where he’s trying to fix the vacuum, sitting on the kitchen floor. He reaches up to touch Nate’s hip, smiling. “You’re home early.”

Nate opens his mouth to reply, but he’s interrupted by a sharp bark from the puppy Brad has kenneled on the far side of the kitchen. She barks again when Nate looks at her, and Nate just stares. “Brad.”

”She was more conniving then I gave her credit for,” Brad says, scowling down at the vacuum. “And this thing broke when I was trying to clean it up.”

”I’m more concerned with _why_ there is a dog in our house,” Nate says. He runs his fingers over Brad’s scalp as he crosses the kitchen to move closer to the puppy, crouching down in front of kennel and sticking his fingers through the bars.

”She’s yours,” Brad says, catching his weight on his palms behind him. “If you want her.” At Nate’s blank stare, Brad smiles. “I told you I was going to get you a dog when I got home.”

”Really?” Nate asks, perking up. “You know we should have talked about this, right?” The puppy licks his fingers through the bars, and Nate lets out a startled laugh. “Can I hold her? What kind of dog is she? Where did you get her? What’s her name?”

”If you let her out, she’s just going to go after the Cheerios,” Brad says.

Nate ignores him in favor of opening the kennel and pulling the wiggling puppy into his arms. There’s a bright smile on his face as Nate coddles the puppy to his chest, laughing happily as her quick tongue catches his chin in rapid licks. Something warm and heavy and _good_ settles in Brad’s stomach at the sight and sound.

”A friend of Annie’s has a dog that had a litter recently,” Brad says, gesturing at the puppy vaguely. “Her mom’s a spaniel mix. No one has any idea what the dad is. Or who.”

”I like her spots,” Nate says, nuzzling his cheek against the top of her head. “She’s so soft.”

”She doesn’t have a name,” Brad continues. “Well, they were calling her Pikachu, but I’ll cut you up if you keep that name.”

”Yeah, you are not a Pikachu,” Nate laughs. He holds the puppy to his chest carefully, sliding across the linoleum floor until he bumps into Brad’s side. The puppy squirms happily when she spots the Cheerios, but Nate doesn’t let go. He leans into Brad for a kiss, which Brad returns easily. “You didn’t name her?”

”I was waiting for you,” Brad replies, sitting up and reaching to scratch the puppy behind her ears. “She’s your dog.”

”She’s _our_ dog,” Nate says. There’s so much raw emotion in the words, Brad has no choice but to meet Nate’s gaze. “I love you.”

Brad smiles, pressing his forehead to Nate’s shoulder. It puts him close enough for the puppy to lick at his cheek, and Brad laughs at her enthusiasm despite himself. “I love you, too,” Brad says softly, kissing Nate’s shoulder.

”So,” Nate says slowly, resting his cheek against the top of Brad’s head. “If you got us a dog, does that mean you aren’t getting rid of me anytime soon?”

There’s no point in Brad even pretending to think about the answer. It’s obvious, probably has been since the beginning, and Brad wouldn’t change any of it for the world. “I’m not letting you go anywhere.”

”Good,” Nate says, nuzzling against Brad lightly. His fingers stroke over the puppy’s fur, soothing her, and Brad presses his forehead to Nate’s. “Because I actually had no intention of ever leaving.”

Brad smiles, closing his eyes and just breathes in Nate’s space. “Good.”


End file.
